


The Cure

by shessolovely



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, I literally just got my inspiration from The Cure by Lady Gaga, Im the least creative person out here lmao, Other, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, lol idk what im doing, this doesnt have any plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-01-26 09:12:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12554112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessolovely/pseuds/shessolovely
Summary: “I will be right by your side.If I can’t find the cure I’ll fix you with my love. No matter what you know I’ll fix you with my love- and if you say you’re okay, I’m gonna heal you anyway.Promise I’ll always be there: promise I’ll be the cure.”Life can be shitty and bring you down. But in actuality, it’s really all about those who are there to help you pick up the pieces.





	1. Tony Stark

”You know what sucks, Karen?”  
  
”What, Peter?”  
  
Peter stared up at the night sky, analyzing the few stars he could see through the light pollution. They twinkled faintly, and Peter looked down at his torn up suit, watching the blood gush out of the multiple wounds he had recieved. He felt cold and sweaty at the same time, which didn’t make sense, and he made up his mind. “Guns suck, Karen,” He told her in a matter-of-fact tone. “They like, really suck.” His throat felt thick, and his words seemed to slur. Furrowing his eyebrows, he tried to swallow, but the saliva seemed to be stuck. Coughing, he heard Karen speak. “I couldn’t agree more, Peter. Mr. Stark has already been alerted to your injuries. ETA is six minutes.”

Normally, Peter would have argued, but he felt too tired. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. It was funny- there was a bird flying around in the sky, and it seemed to be flapping its wings _waaay_ too slowly. Peter giggled, and as he opened his mouth to smile, he felt something wet and sticky trail down the side of his cheek. “ETA to Mr. Stark’s arrival- 2 minutes,” Karen shrilled in his ear, and Peter winced at how _loud_ she seemed to be. “Peter, you _must_ stay awake.” 

“Karen... ‘m okay...”

“No, you are _not_ okay, Peter.”

“Karen, ‘m scared...”

Karen said nothing as the sound of repulsors whirred through the air. “God, _Peter!_ ” Peter lazily lolled his head to the side, feeling more of the sticky stuff trail down his cheeks. He watched from a sideways view as the Iron Man suit opened and Mr. Stark’s feet sprinted to where Peter lay. Hands were grabbing at his arms and shoulders, and Peter groaned as his mask was pulled off. “Mr. Stark?”  
  
“Peter, kid, you’re going to be okay, okay?” Mr. Stark was pressing down on his wounds, and Peter gave a shriek of pain. “I’m sorry, kid.” He sounded distraught, and Peter, through the fog of the pain, couldn’t understand why. “I’m _so sorry_ , Peter.” Peter let out a sob and his hands fell over Mr. Stark’s, trying to pry his hands off because _it hurt so much, why wasn’t the pain going away-_

“Peter, I have to keep putting some pressure on these wounds. What happened?” Mr. Stark asked, and Peter swallowed again.

“Guys were... were hurting these two girls. They were gonna...” Peter felt the bile rise up in his throat, and Mr. Stark gently shushed him. “I told them to run and they had all these guns.” Peter sighed. “Guns suck, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark clenched his jaw. “I couldn’t agree more, Peter.”

Peter chuckled. “That’s wha.. wha Karen said.”

Mr. Stark tapped his finger against his ear and spoke. “FRIDAY, get the medical wing prepped in the Tower. I need doctors, surgeons, the ones we trust. I know that’s limited, but get ‘em here now. No time to waste. Let’s get moving.” Peter heard a faint, “ _On it, boss._ ” before he briefly registered Mr. Stark getting up. Panic erupted in Peter’s system. 

“Wait, Mr. Stark!” Peter shouted. “Please, don’t leave me here! I’ll do better, I promise! _Please! Don’t leave me here!_ ” He felt his breathing become erratic, and the bullet wounds in his body flared in pain with every harsh breath.  
  
Mr. Stark knelt back down and grasped Peter’s shoulders. Through the fogginess of the pain, Peter couldn’t quite make out the emotion raging across Mr. Stark’s face. “I’m not _ever_ going to be leaving you, Peter. You hear me? You’re stuck with me ‘till the end of the line, kid. It’s okay. I’m here, we’re gonna fix this.” Mr. Stark stood up and quickly stepped into the Iron Man suit, moving back to Peter again. “We don’t have a lot of time. You’re losing a lot of blood, and I bet your healing factor is kicking in. We’re headed to the Tower, kid. We have to get those bullets out of you.” For the first time that night, Peter heard the panic and fear in Mr. Stark’s voice. “This might hurt, Peter.” Mr. Stark scooped him up, and Peter whimpered as pain rolled through his system. “I’m so, so sorry Peter,” Mr. Stark’s voice was tight, but Peter couldn’t quite figure out why as he lolled his head against the chest of the Iron Man suit, eyes sliding shut.

”We’re gonna fix this.” Peter heard him say as they sped off towards the Tower. “ _I’m_ gonna fix this...”

* * *

 

Peter woke up in a comfortable bed, with _hella_ awesome sheets, and an IV attached to his arm. 

Not to mention the fact that Tony Stark was passed out in a chair next to him. He was leaned forward, arms and forehead on the mattress of the bed next to Peter’s feet, his soft snores muffled by the sheets. Peter blinked and looked around the room, inspecting the medical equipment around him and listening to the beeps of the heart monitor next to him. He moved his hands and fingers, testing their mobility, and tried to do the same with his legs, but found it hurt too much. He moved his feet, accidentally hitting Mr. Stark’s arm, and froze when the older man groaned into the mattress. _Oops_.

“Hmm?” Mr. Stark looked up, and Peter winced at his face. He looked awful- there were bags under his eyes and stubble was starting to grow around his trademark beard. His expensive suits were replaced with sweatpants and a AC/DC t-shirt, and his eyes widened as he saw Peter staring at him. “You’re awake!” Peter jumped as Mr. Stark leapt out of his chair and wrung his hands together. “Are you okay? Do you need anything? Does anything hurt?”

“Uh...” Peter swallowed. “Maybe water?”

”Sure, kid, sure!” Mr. Stark fumbled around with the water bottle on the table next to him, opening it and holding it out towards Peter. “Don’t try to reach for it, kid, it’ll hurt a lot. You really got your ass handed to you on a silver platter this time, didn’t ya?” Peter felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment. Mr. Stark sighed. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to say it like that. Let me help you.”

Peter reluctantly opened his mouth, and Mr. Stark gently placed the water bottle on his lips, slowly tilting it upwards. Peter drank greedily, and slid his lips shut, allowing Mr. Stark to pull away. Peter noticed he was shaking as he closed the cap on the bottle. “Mr. Stark, um... are you okay?”  
  
”Fine, fine.” Mr. Stark dismissed, before stopping and turning around. “Actually, you know what, no, I’m not okay. I’m _fu_... freaking,” he corrected himself. “ _Freaking_ mad at you, Pete. What the hell?”

”Okay, I know what you’re gonna say, but _hear me out-_ “  
  
”You know what I’m gonna say? I’m gonna say it was damn stupid for you to be so hesitant to call me when you had six bullet wounds, three cracked ribs, two ridiculously large gashes on your body and a black eye! I thought we agreed that you would _call_ when you were in danger!”

”But I wasn’t in danger!” Peter protested. “I handled those guys just fine!”

”And what about the aftermath, huh?” Mr. Stark snapped. “What, did you expect to pull six bullets out of your body and sew together your gashes with your aunt’s tweezers and sewing kit?”

”Aunt May doesn’t own any sewing kits, actually-“

”Kid!” Mr. Stark snapped again, and Peter fell silent. “You have got to be better at this whole communication thing. You need to know when to ask for help. You could have-“ Mr. Stark didn’t seem to be able to get the words out, and Peter took his chance to talk. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” He hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry.”

He heard Mr. Stark sigh, and say, “I know better than to take the suit away. But there will be _major_ consequences for this, you hear me?” Peter nodded as Mr. Stark sat on the bed next to him. “Kid. _Peter._ Look at me.” Peter looked up, and was met with a face full of AC/DC shirt as Mr. Stark wrapped his arms around him. Peter weakly lifted his arms up (damn, Mr. Stark was right, this hurt) and wrapped his arms around the older man, leaning into his chest. Mr. Stark sighed into Peter’s hair. “Don’t ever freak me out like that again, okay?” Peter nodded against Mr. Stark’s shirt.

Pulling away, the billionaire sniffed and cleared his throat. “Now, we call your ridiculously attractive aunt.” Peter’s eyes widened. “She has quite a few things she wants to say to you, too.”  
  
Ah, shit.


	2. Ned Leeds

Ned could still remember the day he and Peter became friends.

Some of the kids in the grade above theirs had been picking on Ned, calling him names and poking fun at his weight, and the only thing that had been running through Ned’s mind was how can they be so mean? His eyes had been welling up with tears, but he was frozen on the spot, feet refusing to move and his head drooping down low. Ned had just been ready to burst into tears when a squeaky voice had told the kids to leave him alone. Ned had looked up and there was Peter, a small, scrawny kid standing determinedly next to him.

Of course, the kids ended up picking on both Ned and Peter which had ended in Peter throwing both of his shoes _and_ a couple of sticks at one of the boys. So when the two first graders sat on the bench waiting to be lectured by the principal, Peter had introduced himself.

“My name’s Peter Parker!” He had lisped brightly. “What’s yours?”

“Edward Leeds,” Ned replied shyly. “But you can call me Ed if you wanna.”

“Ned?” Peter tilted his head to the side. “That’s a cool name. Is it your super secret spy name?”

“No.” Ned furrowed his eyebrows. “‘S just my name. But it’s Ed, not Ned.”

“Oh.” The two boys fell into silence. “Can I️ still call you Ned? I️ like the name.” Ned thought about this. Would his mom be mad at him for having another boy call him something that wasn’t his name? Then again, Mom sometimes didn’t call him by his name either, sometimes she called him honey and cupcake so it probably wouldn’t get him in trouble. “Okay,” Ned agreed. “I️ like the name too!” He grinned and Peter grinned back, showing off the few gaps of missing teeth in his mouth and Ned decided that he liked Peter Parker very much.

Though sometimes, when Peter did stupid shit like _fall off of a fucking bridge_ Ned Leeds decided he sometimes really, really hated Peter Parker.

“I’m seriously cold, Ned,” Peter complained as they sat together at lunch. “I️’m wearing three layers. _Three!_ And I️ wore four today if you count the coat I️ was wearing on the train!”

“That sounds like a you problem, Peter,” Ned replied, taking a bite out of his sandwich, hushing his voice. “Besides, no one forced you to go on patrol last night. Wasn’t it like, twenty degrees last night? You did all this yourself, which was a stupid idea to begin with- Oh! Didn’t you say you had some sort of big thing you stopped last night?“

“Oh, yeah! Okay, well, there was a car falling off and then some woman was shoved off of the railing-“

“Damn, cold blooded.”

“-I️ know, right? But anyway she could’ve died and the people in that car could’ve died and then I️... fell,” Peter finished lamely. Ned narrowed his eyes. “Peter, you didn’t say anything about falling! Where did you fall?”

Peter mumbled something incoherent and Ned pursed his lips. “Whazzat?”

“Into the water,” Peter said louder. Ned’s jaw dropped.

“Peter, what the fuck?” Ned’s voice had gotten so loud a group of people a few tables down had turned to look at him. Peter’s eyes widened in panic and he tried to shush Ned as quizzical looks were thrown their way. “ _Peter!_ You can’t just-“

“Ned, shut up, _shut up-_ “

“-I don’t even know where the bridge was or how high it was-“

“Ned, will you just _chill_ for a second-“

“-no, I will not chill! Peter Benjamin Parker, what in the actual shit?”

“Ned, look, I...” Peter ran a hand down his face, suddenly looking exhausted. “Can we not do this in the middle of the cafeteria?”

“Fine! Just don’t expect me to be any less mad outside!”

The two stood, throwing away their barely touched lunches as Ned stomped out into the hallway with Peter tiredly following him. Ignoring the strange looks their classmates were giving him, Ned led Peter into an empty hallway near the music room. “Peter, what the hell did you do?”

“I told you, I fell! Like literally I slipped off of the edge on accident. I was talking to the lady and trying to be nice and then two seconds later I’m like _‘oh shit’_ -“

“Did you get any injuries?”

Peter didn’t answer at first. Instead, he opted to look down, take a deep breath before looking Ned in the eye and repeating his same tired slogan: “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m fine.”

Ned smacked his palm to his forehead before groaning. “ _That’s_ never a good sign.”

“What?! It’s not like I don’t heal quick!”

“Peter, don’t be a dick.”

“How am I being a dick?”

“You’re lying about your injuries,” Ned pointed out. “I saw you holding your side earlier, and you were limping. You’re also complaining about being cold.”

Peter gave him a befuddled look. “Jesus Christ, who are you? MJ?”

“Just be thankful _she_ didn’t say anything, dude. Anyway, because you’re hiding your injuries and not letting me help, you’re a dick.”

“Ned, that’s the dumbest reasoning ever.”

“I’m supposed to be the guy in the chair, Peter!” Ned exclaimed. “How am I supposed to help you if you won’t let me?” Peter fell silent at that, before sighing and nodding his head towards the men’s restrooms. “Fine. You can take a look, but it’s all gonna be going away at some point. I bet within the next hour or so.”

Ned followed Peter to the bathrooms, which, luckily, were empty. Dropping his backpack, Peter lifted the edge of his layers, only showing Ned a peek of the huge bruises littered across his sides. Ned’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, dude.”

“Yeah,” Peter grimaced.

“That’s _gotta_ hurt.”

“It did,” Peter agreed. “And it does. But it was ten times worse last night, trust me.”

“Did you make sure nothing was broken?” Ned asked, and Peter pursed his lips. “Well... Uh, no, actually.”

“What?!”

“Look, I swung home as fast as I could! And by then the suit was off and I just wanted to sleep so- _ow! Ow_ , Ned, don’t _touch_ that!” Ned pressed two fingers against the bruise, and swallowed as he felt the skin squish. Peter’s jaw was clenched tightly in pain, and Ned removed his fingers from the skin.

“Peter, take a deep breath.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it, dude. C’mon, please.”

Peter inhaled deeply from his nose, and Ned caught the expression of pain that flickered across his face. “Dude, I think your ribs are broken. You gotta tell Mr. Stark or Aunt May or something. Either way, I’m gonna take you to the nurse’s office.”

“What? Ned, no!”

“Peter, seriously?” Ned raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t want you to get any more hurt than you already are. Please?” Peter sagged, grimacing as he held his side lightly.

“Okay, fine. Maybe- Maybe I do need to go home. But _only_ home, Ned,” Peter warned as he watched Ned’s expression morph from concern into smugness. “I don’t need Mr. Stark freaking out or anything. That’s kinda weird.”

“Do you think that makes him your adoptive superdad?”

“I don’t think that’s how adoption works, Ned, and also, no.”


	3. May Parker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! i wrote this chapter because hate how everyone kills May or makes her out to be a bitch. I’m spiting you guys. Aunt May is great

~~~~There was smoke in her eyes and a burnt chicken in her oven. The asparagus underneath it was probably gonna light on fire at some point and May didn’t have any energy to do anything but sigh, turn off the screaming smoke ~~~~detector, chuck the charred remains of vegetables and dead bird and dig through the freezer for something microwaveable. Something she was less likely to fuck up, because the last thing she needed was her apartment building on fire and a note from the landlord politely asking the Parkers to _kindly fuck off. ~~~~_

“I think this might be a sign from God or something,” Peter remarked from his doorway.

 

May cocked an eyebrow. “A sign to do what? Become vegetarian? No, wait, _vegan?_ ”

 

Peter shrugged. “Just make sure Jehovah’s Witness doesn’t come knocking at our door with pamphlets on vegetarianism.”

 

May shook her head as she pulled out a Lean Cuisine frozen dinner and a bag of french fries. Peter made a face. “No Thai tonight?”

 

“We can’t order in _every_ night. As great as it is to have someone else cook for us and then deliver it to us so I don’t have to do any work, that’s not really in the budget, kiddo.”

 

“Lean Cuisine and french fries it is, then.”

 

“Hang on, we got...” May peered into the freezer. “Chicken strips, bread, peas, and strawberries.”

 

“We’re goin’ all out, huh?”

 

“Nothing but the best, my dear.” May did an exaggerated bow, and Peter cracked a grin.

 

“I don’t think God wants you to put anything else in that oven. And by God I mean me, so please don’t try to bake any more chicken and vegetables.”

 

“Oh, shut up, half pint.”

 

* * *

 

“Peter Benjamin Parker, you know damn well that Trixie Mattel slays the game way better than Alaska Thunderfuck- no, young man, don’t you even _try_ to fight me on this, plus her name is ridiculously vulgar, too filthy for your young, pure, virgin ears.”

 

“Okay, first off,” Peter pointed a potato chip at her. “Please _never_ call my ears young and pure or virgins ever again.”

 

“It was a compliment-“

 

“Be that as it may, my ears are definitely not pure after hearing you scream obscenities at a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese when you lit it on fire.” Peter scrunched his nose. “Plus, calling my ears virgins is just frickin’ weird, May.”

 

“My point still stands. Anyway, Trixie Mattel is a God given gift, Peter Parker, and don’t you forget it!” May pushed her glasses farther up her nose, playfully wagging a finger at her nephew.

 

“Um, okay, I guess you like being totally and completely _wrong_ , May. I don’t understand it but hey, whatever works-“

 

“Oh, don’t you start with that-“ May threw her potato chip at Peter, who laughed and ducked as it hit the couch cushion. “Oh, shh! It’s starting!” The two sat and watched as the RuPaul’s Drag Race logo flashed across the screen, munching absent mindedly on chips and Chex Mix. May sighed and leaned back into the couch, relaxing muscles she didn’t even know _needed_ to be relaxed, and laughed along with Peter through the Reading Challenge. These were the nights she cherished- where Peter _actually came home from school_ , did his homework, teased her about her nonexistent cooking skills and sat and watched old movies or TV shows with her. They were rare, these nights, but she wished there could be more of them.

 

There could be more if Peter wasn’t Spider Man, she knew- but no matter how many times she screamed or cried or pleaded or threatened, he would never budge. If anything, he’d find a loophole of some kind and work around it and when he got hurt, May would get a ~~worried and panicked~~  exasperated and weary phone call from Tony Stark (who she disliked even _more_ , now) telling her there was a teenager on his couch who just had his ass handed to him by either a criminal or whatever weird, strange new super villain the city had decided to conjure up this week.

 

Even then, underneath all the worry and fear, May couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride, because that was _her_ kid up there helping a little girl get her kite down from a tree, that was _her_ kid protecting and preventing a woman from getting harassed in the street, that was _her_ kid doing _his_ part to help make the world a better place. And even deeper down was a smug outlook on the whole superhero situation. Oh, your kid got on honor roll and did his laundry for the first time ever? Guess what, _Brenda_ , my kid got on honor roll, does his laundry _all_ the time, can stop a bus with his bare hands and is a budding superhero mentored by _Tony Stark_ and makes Queens a little safer every day.

 

Try topping _that_ one, PTA moms.

 

God, May wished Ben was here. Would he have been furious? Yes. Would he have driven to the Avengers compound himself and broken the door down and possibly beaten the shit out of Tony Stark? Yeah. Would he have been a _little_ stricter with the new rules May had implemented right after she found out about the whole Spider Man thing? Probably.

 

But May knew without a doubt, that Ben would have been incredibly proud. And maybe even more smug than she was.

 

“May? You okay? You’re kinda zoning out there.”

 

May snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Peter, who was staring at her worriedly. “You need water or somethin’, May? I’m not totally sure it’s a good idea to eat a crap ton of salty stuff and then just not hydrate for like, two hours-“

 

“No, Peter,” May interrupted. “I’m good, thanks.” She paused. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

 

Peter blinked, before smiling shyly. “Yeah, May. I know.”

 

May leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Love you, kiddo.”

 

“Love you too, May.”

 

Yeah. Ben would be proud.


End file.
